


Intimacy

by snarkengaged



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-11 23:57:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16862422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkengaged/pseuds/snarkengaged
Summary: You're excited, as anyone would be, for that first time with Kassandra. Originally posted on tumblr.





	Intimacy

**Author's Note:**

> As I said, this was originally posted on tumblr as I worked through the NSFW alphabet for her. Given tumblr's current status, I wanted to make sure people could read this somewhere if they wanted to. Note: though I tagged this F/F, I did keep it gender neutral. I believe the only reference I made to the reader's appearance is that they're shorter than Kassandra, which-would be most people, I think (tall people don't interact because I'll get jealous lmao). Have fun!

You thought at first that sex with Kassandra was going to go like it goes for everyone else she’s been with-that you would be, at best, a friend who lucked out; at worst, she’d move on, and her eyes would pass over you, in future. 

When you stumble with her, that first time, away from everyone else, away from the raucous celebrations, the playwrights singing drunkenly, you find it difficult to swallow past something in your throat. The torches throw her handsome jaw in and out of shadow as she hums quietly off key, her face closer to your own than it might usually be as the two of you meander towards…or rather, away. 

She’s not acting different. More handsy, leaning towards you more, but she hasn’t leveled you with any of her awful lines. You’d heard them; Odessa still laughed raucously at one or two of your imitations, always under your breath. The two of you had put your heads together on more than one night, tucked away near empty amphorae, and ruminated on the colossal verbal missteps of your beloved mercenary. Overwhelming conclusion had been that since she tried every approach in the book, she was bound to have some embarrassing rejections and flubs. 

But Kassandra  _had_ kissed you, and more, and her expression had reflected the same surprise you’d felt, even as you’d felt heat burn across your skin where she’d touched you. The considering glint in her eye as she’d given you a frank once over had had you biting your lip; and now here you are, her fingers like a promising loose vice on your hip.

Your heart aches when you glance over, as much as the rest of you. 

It’s with some surprise that you realize you’re nervous. Excited, yes; adoring, desirous, of course. But…an end of something big is coming, and you have seen her go through this song and dance before. How many times have you rolled your eyes, waiting on the Adrestia, while the crew gossips outrageously? Kassandra’s life seems to be like something out of a legend, and that apparently extends to all aspects of it. You’ve become used to it at her side; you’ve been her friend for some time now, and at this point her love life is mostly just something that makes you laugh when people (sometimes you) tell tales of it. 

Mostly. You are human.

It hurt differently, then, but not because of the others. You can’t and wouldn’t blame them; after all, here you are. Some of them are your friends. All of you, leaping at the chance. You wonder if any of them had known, her strong arms around them like they are around you now, of the two ways it might go for them. Had any of them thought they’d be the one? If you’d looked behind you just now, would you have caught eyes watching you jealously? 

 _Whoever comes next,_ you think, and your stomach twists sickeningly.

Because she’s the real thing, you think, and you know you aren’t. 

“…to do this?”

You startle, and can’t remember how you’d gotten all the way out here.

Kassandra had steered the two of you to one of the outdoor gardens, roofed, clinging to the edge of the mountain. The torches are unlit, but you can make out blankets and plush pillows under cover of a veranda. The sky is reflected in a shallow pool; but for the few stars and the weak moon managing to twinkle faintly through the stormclouds, it is dark and still.The air gently starts to pick up around you, and promises rain. 

Kassandra is looking down at you. Out here, it’s too dark to see her face properly, but you can almost hear her frown. 

“We don’t have to, you know,” she continues, her voice just tinged with concern. 

“No! No. I’ve wanted to for awhile, actually,” you reply hurriedly, and immediately want to fall into the earth. It’s worth it for her answering laugh, at least. It’s wonderful how you feel it, her whole body shaking against yours. Ears ringing, you think-you wish- _I could get used to this._

She backs away a step, turns to stand in front of you, and her hands-calloused-are against your face. You close your eyes, even though you’re pretty sure neither of you can see anything anyway. Even in the dark, she overwhelms you. 

“That’s good,” Kassandra says quietly, kissing you. Craning up seems to pull something along your whole body, pleasant and vulnerable, your neck exposed to her even if she won’t notice. You can still taste the wine she drank, and the hairs escaping her braid tickle your nose. “It has been…the same, for me.”

This startles you out of your daze. You stare at her hard, seeing nothing other than her outline. “What, really?”

She stills, just for a moment, huffing a laugh. “Yes, really. Is that so difficult to believe?”

“Yes.” You grasp her fingers now, squinting up at her. “How long?”

“I-I don’t know,” she answers, exasperation and the beginnings of confusion pricking her words. “Does it matter?”

You think about-the Adrestia in raging storms, where you’d swear you were drowning as you slipped on her deck. Battles, all over this damned war, where Kassandra wouldn’t come back for weeks, and you’d assure yourself that if she was dead, someone would note it-history would mean you would know. Myths couldn’t just die with no one remarking on it, so-

You think of-whoever comes next. Those who came before. 

“Yes,” you say quietly. It’s startling how harsh and hurt your own voice sounds to your ears. 

The first time doesn’t happen then, technically; but this was part of it. 

It’s a week later, both of you avoiding each other-difficult, on the ship, easier on land except that you’re both cursed and she keeps running into you-that it finally breaks.

A flurry of words, and glares, more intense than either of you had ever been with each other in your years of friendship. Nothing of importance, truthfully, just evening the score with petty and small things like you’ve done a hundred times on long voyages, until-

“You wasted my time, Kassandra!” 

Her brown eyes are bright with fury. “ _I_  was wasting  _your_ time? After this last week? How? How can you possibly-you  _stubborn_ -”

“I was jealous, and-alone. And I  _didn’t need to be_. I didn’t need to be afraid.” You can’t help gesticulating, not caring how it looks. This can’t just-be let go, not when you’ve been ruminating. “But I guess that’s a foreign concept to you-you, who goes leaping from one thing to another without a second thought-you, who never has to worry about her heart or anything else-”

“I didn’t tell you because I  _was_ afraid, you fucking-you-maláka!” She wheels around, away from you, her broad shoulders like a wall. Not fast enough that you miss the muscle twitching in her jaw, or the flash of pain that flickers across her face.

The silence that falls roars in your ears, it’s weight seeming to slow down time itself. You’re angry-so angry, angry in a way that feels bigger than just one misunderstanding-and you realize-

You miss her. You have missed Kassandra. Even when you didn’t know she felt the same, even when you thought this was just you and she seemed like-something all the way on Mount Olympus-she was still your friend. But now, here she is. You think you might love her. She could love you, you don’t know. She’s feet away and right in front of you. And you miss her.

“What do you mean?” you ask gently, finally. Bubbling to the surface, guilt rears it’s ugly head cautiously. You’re not ready to drag it out yet, or push it back under, but-have you fallen to spite, just to lick your own wounds?

“I know how you look at me,” she says awkwardly, her voice slightly higher than usual. She still won’t look at you. “I’ve heard how you talk about me. You, just like-everyone else. You all think I’m something more. I’m not.”

She laughs, forced, and it is the most heartbreaking sound in the world. 

“You aren’t?”  _You are_ , you think doubtfully.

She turns to you, her brows furrowed and her face falling. “No. No, of course not-I’m just a person. And everything I’ve done…I’m skilled, yes, but the thing everyone talks about-it’s been luck, or it’s gone wrong. It has gone wrong so many times, and people just don’t hear about it. I have to work  _so hard_  to make these things happen, do you understand? Yet everyone expects me to do the impossible, not understanding that every time I do it again, I think, ‘that could’ve been it.’ But it’s not even-” Kassandra stops, looking off to the side. “It’s not even really that.”

“Then what is it?” you ask. You think you’ve started to see the shape of it; maybe started to really see her. The guilt is back and it’s eating you whole. You’d lost this woman, somewhere in your infatuation. 

She was lonely.

Kassandra doesn’t reply for a moment, and when she does it’s apparent she’d rather be talking about anything else. Her body language is tense, her arms crossed. “Even if you got it wrong, I still liked it when you looked at me like that. I really, really liked it. Which is why I thought, maybe just one night, then we could go back to you-still looking at me like that. But if we got closer…” she glances towards you, lightning fast, then away again,”then that would stop.” 

Ah. You hesitate, before taking that first step closer. She obviously notices, going still, her eyes lowered but clearly watching your movements. 

You reach out for her, when you’re close enough, and brush the strands of hair off her face. She swallows hard, turning to look at you, your eyes catching the movement of her throat to avoid that unguarded gaze. You know it would disarm you, and you have to say this before you lose it. She needs to hear it.

“Kassandra, I didn’t know. I’m so-” you stroke her cheek, softly, eliciting a simple and open sound from her in surprise. “I’m so sorry. You were right. I did see something else.” 

You lean forward, feeling that pull along your entire center as you lean upwards. It’s just the strain because she’s so damned tall, but it feels like your own yearning. It feels like more. 

She’s more. You’re more. This-this is-

“But I see you now.”

Sex with Kassandra, it turns out, has quite a lead up. 

**Author's Note:**

> Got you good with that M-rating, huh?


End file.
